


Midnight Sun

by JustGettingBy



Series: Solstice Duology [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Established Relationship, Firelord Zuko (Avatar), Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Summer Solstice, The Midnight Sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24830521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustGettingBy/pseuds/JustGettingBy
Summary: Sokka often heard Zuko say that, as a firebender, he rose with the sun. He didn't realize that meant the inverse was also true. Now, on the summer solstice in the Northern Water Tribe, Zuko can't fall asleep.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Solstice Duology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073726
Comments: 30
Kudos: 1212





	Midnight Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda based on a tumblr post I made? I couldn't get it out of my head that Zuko's whole "I rise with the sun" thing meant he regularly wants to go to bed at like 7pm. 
> 
> And what better time to explore this idea than the summer solstice. Where I live, we literally get 17 hours of sunlight today,

Sokka wakes to footfall on tile. Still half-lucid, he reaches out to the other side of the bed, only to find his hand meet cool, rumpled bedding. 

“Zuko?” He stretches, sits up, and looks around the room. It’s much nicer than he’s used to back in the South—the Northern Water Tribe spared no expense to welcome the Fire Lord. The bed stretched out as wide as several bedrolls with gauzy silver curtains surrounding the posts. Along the far wall are rows of windows and a balcony that opens to show the rest of the capital and the ocean beyond the wall. Tusk and bone decorations adorn the walls—only the finest craftsmen would be allowed to carve something for a chamber like this. But, despite the grandeur, Sokka can’t help but notice the style is dated. If he had to guess, he’d say these rooms haven’t been used in many, many years. And why would they? The Northern Water Tribe had no occasion to entertain foreign dignitaries. 

But Sokka’s not about to complain. His own guest suite is much more simple, more suitable for someone of his rank (not that he planned to spend much time there). The staff even brought a tray of fresh fruit to Zuko’s door yesterday morning—so yeah, he’s staying. For most of the year, they’re so busy that it’s nearly impossible to carve out a free weekend for them to enjoy. And now they have two uninterrupted weeks together; even if they do have to go to meetings in the day, the nights are their own. 

Like now.

Sokka frowns. “Zuko?” he repeats and sits a bit straighter. His eyes don’t have to strain much to adjust. Even though it must be the small hours of the morning, hazy light drifts in from under the thick curtains. With a gust of wind, the fabric by the balcony door ripples. 

Sokka stretches and rises and goes to the door. 

On the balcony, Zuko sits in his brugandy nightclothes, deep in meditation. His eyelids flutter; his lips pull to a flat line. The midnight sun washes over his pale skin; in the distance, the sun skims over the frigid ocean in a pool of pink. Zuko looks as if he's glowing too, his skin holds the pastel colours and, like a polished mirror, it reflects back off him. Sokka commits the moment to memory: he and Zuko together and finally alone at the peace summit, the war becoming a distant memory.

“Zuko,” Sokka says for the third time, “come to bed.” He rests his hands on Zuko’s shoulder and feels the heat through the silk of his tunic. 

Zuko’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “I’m the Fire Lord. I don’t take orders,” he says, his voice dripping with mirth and his eyes still closed. 

“You’re sarcasm still needs some work, but we can practice when it’s not, like, three in the morning.” 

With a sigh, Zuko unfolds himself from his meditation. “I can’t sleep,” he says simply. He tucks his knees into his chest and Sokka follows his gaze to the horizon.

“Oh?” Sokka sits next to him. Here, he can feel the heat Zuko radiates. Here, he doesn’t feel the light chill of the Northern summer night. Here, he is safe. 

“It’s the sun.” Zuko sounds more annoyed than anything, but his loose hair falls in his eyes and he doesn’t bother to push it away. “It’s just—I mean—it’s always  _ there _ .”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, “that’s how it works in the North. Well, in the South too. In the winter there are weeks when the most light we get is a few hours around noon of murky dawn. But in the summer? It’s up for weeks on end.”

“Apparently.” 

“Isn’t it amazing?” Sokka looks at the inky sky. A few stars shine out; the brightest and boldest of the sky. 

“Sure. It’s great. It’s amazing. It’s wonder—”

“Alright, hotman, what’s up?”

Zuko throws his hands to his side in frustration. “I told you, I can’t sleep! It’s a firebender thing. It’s like...like drinking a cup of strong tea or coffee and then trying to go to bed. It doesn’t work. No matter what I do, I can feel it—” he gestures vaguely to the sun— “buzzing in my head.” 

When Sokka looks at Zuko, he sees the deep bag under his right eye. A few lines etch themselves into his face more deeply than Sokka remembers. “Hey,” he says. He reaches for Zuko’s hand and runs his thumb over the lines of Zuko’s delicate bones. “How long has it been since you slept?”

“I got a few hours last night,” he says.

Sokka bites his lip. How did he not notice? They’ve been here nearly five days now and it looks like Zuko’s gotten maybe as many hours over the past week. 

“Can I do anything?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve never been somewhere like this before. A disadvantage to rising with the sun, I guess.”

Sokka leans in and rests his head on Zuko’s shoulder. “You know, after this, you should come down South for a few weeks.”

“You think so?”

“Seventeen hours of total darkness. Just the stars and the moon and the village fires.” He presses a kiss to the stubble on Zuko’s jaw. “We could sleep for  _ weeks.  _ Wrap ourselves in warm furs. Never leave our bed.”

“Hmm.” Zuko turns, meeting Sokka’s gaze. They’re so close, he feels the beat of his heart and his breath and the vibrations of his voice. “I can think of something else I’d like to do besides sleep.” 

“Oh, can you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Because I honestly can’t think—” 

Zuko’s kiss cuts off Sokka’s words and thoughts. He’s warm, so warm, and familiar. His lips are soft. His arms are steady. Sokka doesn’t want to part—he wants to rest, here, and never leave. But after the days of meetings and the travelling beforehand and the state breakfast in the morning, he knows he’ll be a hollow mess of an ambassador if he tries to stay up for any longer than he already has. 

But he pulls away, softly. “Come to bed,” Sokka whispers. 

The curve of Zuko’s lip is swollen. “Fine,” he concedes. “But I’m not tired.”

“Too bad for you,” Sokka teases. “I need a heat back.”

He leads Zuko by his hand back into the suite. With care, he peels back the nest of messy blankets and worms his way inside, Zuko in tow. He pulls his partner’s arms around him and presses himself into Zuko’s shape. 

“Goodnight, Zuko,” Sokka says. 

A kiss on his ear. “Sleep well.” 

For a while, Sokka rests with his eyes closed, but he doesn’t give in to the soft call of sleep. He waits for Zuko’s breath to even out, for the rise and fall of his chest to slow and his body to relax. Eventually, it does. A soft rattle echos through the room and Sokka smiles to himself. “Sleep well,” he whispers, before slipping away himself. 


End file.
